There’s a beat of stunned silence. Mack’s eyes go wide and he blinks at me like I’ve revealed some deeply buried emotional algorithm that no one was prepared to interpret.
“Yeah,” he says after a second, voice cautious, “I uh… guess so.”
I let out another sigh and close my eyes as if they are the gateway that no longer contains any answers.
“I’m fine, Mack,” I say, voice rough with understatement. “I’ll be fine.”
There arevoices coming from near the front door as I hit the bottom step.
I freeze halfway down, tucked just out of sight, heart already pounding because I know that voice. Iknowit.
Jacob.
“Can you at least tell me if he’s feeling better?” he asks, voice tight and raw. Like he’s been trying not to cry and failing.
Mack sighs, heavy and tired. “Yeah. He is.”
There’s a beat of silence. It feels charged and awkward and for half a second I think about moving around the corner so I can see Jacobs face.
Then Mack again, quieter this time. “You can’t be here, Jake. He… he needs some space.”
Another beat. Then a sniffle.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Jacob says, barely above a whisper.
And it fucking cracks something in me.
“I know,” Mack says, soft but firm. “But… you should’ve told him. Not just when you were the trainer. When it turned into more…you should’ve come clean.”
“I know,” Jacob replies immediately, voice shaking. “I’m so fucking sorry. He won’t… he won’t talk to me.”
My throat tightens. I press my fingers into the railing like it might hold me up. My chest’s doing that hollow thing again, the one where it feels like I’m full of nothing but hurt.
“I can’t make him talk to you, buddy,” Mack says gently.
Silence again. Then Jacob clears his throat. “I brought him some soup… and crackers. I just… Can you give it to him? You don’t have to say it’s from me. Or you can. Whatever.”
There’s a pause, then Mack’s voice, soft as hell, “Yeah. Of course I will.”
The door closes with a soft snick.
I step forward, socked feet quiet against the stairs as I move into the hallway.
Mack’s standing there alone now, shoulders slumped and head bowed. There’s a paper bag hanging from one hand, and he’s staring at the floor like it might give him the answers neither of us have.
He looks up when he hears me. He doesn’t speak as he holds the bag up with a faint shrug. His eyes are full of pity or sadness or something I can’t name. Maybe I just don’t want to focus on someone else’s fucking emotions right now.
I don’t take the bag. I’m not sure if I’m ready to touch anything Jacob touched.
Mack finally looks up at me, eyes searching mine.
“You heard all of that?”
I don’t flinch as I respond in the most monotone emotionless voice I can muster. “Yep.”
He doesn’t say anything else, just holds the bag out a little further. I take it without a word and turn on my heel, heading into the kitchen. I clutch the bag in my fist and open the trash can. But instead of tossing the soup into it my hand just fucking hovers there over it.
The paper crinkles beneath my fingers, and for one long second, I actually imagine the dullthudof it hitting the bottom of the bin.
